Fire Rains Down
by Magus732
Summary: A brief history of Terra Onyx, from the first Onyxian to the first Cyclonian War 500 years before the tv show. Ch. 4 is up...
1. The Beginning

Fire Rains Down

By Magus732

A hot, humid morning greeted Antor as he opened the window in his lab. The grey-haired scientist hadn't slept one wink since he started his new project. His tired blue eyes saw him put the finishing touches to his machine, at which point he pulled a lever, stood back, and heard the sound of creation. As the mechanism whirred to life before him, he felt a sense of joy; at last, his project was complete, and his superiors would see the fruits of his labor. As the grinding of gears and hum of crystals faded, he heard the sound of labored breathing permeate the room. As a large hatch opened, out came a tall, pointed-eared male creature, skin as black as night. His coal-black eyes turned obediently to his new master, waiting to hear his orders. Quickly, the elderly scientist summoned his superiors, and as they came to look at his work, they marveled at its design.

...

"With three times our strength, almost twice as much intelligence, and vastly superior reflexes, this new being should serve our armies well, my lords." Antor spoke excitedly. The group of graying generals stared in wonder at the silent creature standing before them, wondering just what he could do. Without so much as a word, he bowed to them respectfully, eyeing the floor in reverence.

"Good work, Antor. He is docile?" One general asked curiously.

"Completely docile, General. He will only attack if ordered to do so."

"Or to defend himself, perhaps?" Another general piped in.

"No, only if ordered, sir. He's been bred to obey us without fail."

"Yes..." One particularly regal officer said quietly. "This creature will serve us perfectly..."

...little did he know... within a few short centuries...

This "completely docile" creature would be their undoing...


	2. First Blood

Night. A truly frightening time of the day. As thousands of troops filed into the settlement, hundreds of pairs of black, white and grey eyes stared menacingly from the darkness, watching with hunger at the procession of might moving past them. With fangs bared, one of them drew closer, still hiding in the shadows, as he neared with his dagger readied. Silently, he signaled his companions, who readied their weapons as well.

The first sound the soldiers heard was the "twang" of bow strings and the "swish" of arrows flying. Thousands of the crystal-tipped projectiles rained down on the unsuspecting men, many effortlessly punching through their armor. Suddenly, as the column of soldiers tried to recover from the unseen attack, one of the figures in the shadows yelled proudly.

"Saltano-malcha!" Without further warning, the hidden warriors leapt onto the invading masses. The sound of blades clashing, of armor clanging, of crystal energy crackling... all of it was drowned out by the screams of agony. As the tower shields of the well-armed intruders fell to the ground loudly, the defenders hacked into their prey without mercy.

"They're everywhere! Fall back!" The troop's commander quickly abandoned his subordinates to save his own skin, only to be knocked from his mount and land flat on his back in the mud below. With an eerie silence, one warrior, a long scar over his left eye, stood over the veteran officer.

"Please... we both want the same thing, here..."

"I doubt that very seriously... what _you_ want is an obedient soldier..."

"And what is it you want?"

"...freedom..." The tall, grey-skinned warrior suddenly slashed the officer's throat, spilling his blood onto the loose cobblestones of the town square. His fellows cheered loudly as the others retreated through the city gates; they had won an important victory...

...but the fight had only just begun...


	3. An Uncertain Future

"I cannot believe this!" Rentir was a skilled warrior, a general widely respected both by the troops and his fellow generals. However, he was not known for his patience; the Cimorean delegation was two hours late, and it was getting to the point where the Onyxians were becoming anxious.

"They 'invite' us here so that together we could sign a truce, yet they do not bother to actually show up themselves!"

"Please be at peace, sir… they will arrive soon enough." Sitting next to General Rentir at the eight-foot-long, rectangular meeting table was Lieutenant Colonel Jolach, one of his closest and most trusted friends. During the war, Jolach had been the general's aide-de-camp, helping organize troop movements and tally resources spent; now, all he seemed to do was act as a personal servant, running menial errands for the increasingly frustrated old man. Standing next to them was a young private, fresh out of boot camp, who'd gotten more than he bargained for when he was chosen as the general's bodyguard.

"If they do not arrive soon, Jolach, I am leaving! I will _not_ stand for this sort of foolishness! I have far more important things to do than sit here and be humiliated!" The foul-tempered warlord eyed his aide warningly. Recently, Rentir had become more stubborn and uncaring; he began treating his staff with the utmost disrespect, and nearly lost his commission arguing with his superiors during a briefing. He had begun to drink heavily when he was off duty, having spent the best years of his life commanding a seemingly endless war from the front lines.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the Cimorean envoy arrived. Ambassador Torin looked somewhat disheveled, as if he'd slept in his clothes the night before. He carefully set his metal briefcase on the meeting table, opening it to reveal several sheets of parchment, and set his hat and sidearm next to the briefcase. Two rather large soldiers, wearing bright green dress uniforms and with their rifles slung over their shoulders, flanked the ambassador on either side.

"I must apologize for my tardiness. I am afraid my transport pilot became lost over the Wastelands." The young human sat unflinchingly in front of the two Onyxian officers as he finally took his seat across from them. General Rentir growled impatiently, rubbing his inner thigh tenderly. Suffering from a rather serious leg wound that never healed properly, he slept very poorly and was in constant pain. Walking with a noticeable limp and needing the assistance of a cane, the hunched-over old general's health was obviously deteriorating, but he refused to retire; he claimed that it would make him appear weak. Privately, he told Jolach that he _wanted_ to retire, but he couldn't bring himself to do it because of his pride.

"You need not worry, Ambassador. We have no intention of letting this truce die because of a late arrival." Jolach took the pages from Torin and handed them to the bitter old general, who looked them over more quickly than the colonel would have expected, and he finally signed the document. He scowled unhappily and mumbled something under his breath as he handed the sheets of paper back to the human, who acted as if he didn't notice. Signing the document quickly, he smiled nervously at General Rentir, who smirked slightly. As they all stood up, Torin handed his pistol to Rentir, who looked at it warily.

"Please, take it. I give you this as a gesture of our desire for peace."

"You mean, you _surrender_ it _and_ yourselves rather than face us in further conflict." The general retorted matter-of-factly.

"For the purpose of clarity… yes." The human representative replied hesitantly.

"Very well. I accept this offer of surrender as a sign of your sincerity. Know that our forces have already ceased fire, as have yours, and that we will remain here until you are gone in order to ensure a safe and secure transition to peace."

"Very well, General. I hope that perhaps now, our two peoples can learn to coexist."

"As do I."

Within a century, the ancient power beaten by their former slaves would be gone… all but erased from history… their only legacy was this new race… powerful… dominate… hungry for further conquest… soon, they would rise far above their humble origins… and spread like wildfire across the Atmos…


	4. A Storm Approaches

As Karmel gasped, half in delight and half in terror, his eager lover smiling coyly up at him, he realized he was late for the briefing; if he was late once more, Field Marshal Bargess was likely to snap his neck.

"Kaynara, I have to go." He moved to leave his bed, his pouting bed mate crossing her arms to cover her bare chest.

"Do you, Karmel? Or is this another excuse to avoid answering me?" He turned back to stare at her coldly.

"Damnit, woman, I will talk about that when _I'm_ good and ready, and not a minute sooner!" He reached over her to grab his black leather belt, trying hard to avoid thinking about the obvious hurt in her eyes.

"Karmel, you _know_ I want you to give me beautiful children. I... I mean I want to mother _your_ children."

"I know you do, but we can't think about it until we know for sure what will happen to them." Just before he reached the door, he heard her soft voice call out to him.

"…I love you." Without turning back, he spoke his reply softly.

"I love you too, Kaynara."

"Come back to me, my love." He smiled warmly, turning to nod his head.

"Always. Wait for me, my sweet." She smiled happily.

"Always." With that warm moment gone, he left the giddy young woman alone with her thoughts.

…

"Warriors, we stand at the precipice of a new age; a golden era where our power _finally_ gains us the respect we deserve. With our might displayed for the Atmos to see, we shall go forth and take hold of that which belongs to us. We shall drive out these unworthy primates and send them to their deaths in the Wastelands! By Molvara's grace, we stride forth from here to our destiny; we ride to meet our fate! We leave this place for _conquest_, and we take with us the strength of our ancestors! We bring the spirits of those who shed their blood that we may live! We venture forth to claim this world for our future!" Amid the deafening cheers and applause, Chancellor Borlea raised her marshal's baton to touch the side of her head; an act of favor to bolster the undulant multitudes below. The uniform-clad sea of soldiers deftly returned the gesture, their stiff hands meeting their brows in salute. As she watched with a vicious smirk, the men and women below began to board their transports. As the signal trumpet sounded, the wickedly smiling woman raised both arms above her head, approving the launch of their invasion forces as the massive ships brought their engines to life. Closing her eyes and tilting her chin skyward, she raised her arms higher, chanting a spell with a soft, echoing voice.

"May my children slay the _vermin_ that inflict ruin and decay. May they destroy the ancient evils that _haunt_ this place. May the _taint_ of this land be washed away. With Veldrona's might, let them _cleanse_ this world today!" Her large black eyes shot open, revealing a veil of mystical power that flowed from her, washing over the ships as they clawed their way to their destiny. Gaining altitude, the troop transports rocketed away, leaving behind the startled officers standing beside her.

"Mistress, I… I have never before seen such power." Her chief of staff, Vice Marshal Talbor, choked out shakily.

"I now wield the ancients' magic, Talbor. My long, arduous test of self-worth has gifted me with power beyond the puny minds of the ape men. With this energy at my command, we will take our rightful place as the dominate species in the world, and we will rid ourselves of the primates _forever_!" With this revelation, she turned on her heel and swiftly strode away, leaving the tall man dumbfounded. A moment of weakness seemed to plague the Chancellor, bringing her to a stop as her knees seemingly buckled. Quickly enough, she righted herself, waving away the guards who rushed to her side. Talbor frowned at this sight; what had become of her? What would compel her to commit genocide so blatantly? Something was wrong with this picture, but he had sworn his life to serve her; no matter what folly she engaged in, he would stand by his Chancellor… and his lover…

Little did he know… while Chancellor Borlea sank deeper into self-induced insanity, the child he would soon give her would be their people's saving grace… and their child's son would be their worst nightmare…

Author's Note: Molvara and Veldrona are gods from the ancient Onyxian pantheon...


End file.
